


Coming Back All Damaged

by Xyriath



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Ed-level cursing, Getting Together, Group Therapy, M/M, Modern Era, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Veterans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-02
Updated: 2016-01-02
Packaged: 2018-05-11 02:47:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5610988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xyriath/pseuds/Xyriath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A chance meeting at the office of Veteran's Affairs turns into more than Roy Mustang could have ever imagined.  Edward Elric is too young to have served, he thinks, but he'll soon learn that the truth is more than he could have ever expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coming Back All Damaged

**Author's Note:**

> So, story: a friend of mine started a gift exchange fic but was unable to continue, so he allowed me to do so and gift it to the recipient. Please excuse any inconsistencies in writing style. More info on my tumblr!

The heat rose in waves from the pavement, and the cicadas’ cries very nearly deafened Roy as he mades his way into the local Veteran’s office. Though the trip from the car was short, a few moments more in the heat would have had him drowning in his own sweat. Alas, years in a hot, arid country could do that to a man. Now, it was the cold that bothers him more. Among other things.

Whatever Roy Mustang had been expecting when he entered the lobby, it had most certainly not been a very… short boy shouting at a rather ruffled woman over a desk. Long, blond hair braided and falling just below his shoulders, Roy might have mistaken him for a kid if it weren’t for his enraged voice filling the room.

“What the hell do you _mean,_ my benefits are being cut!? I can barely make ends meet as it is! I have a disabled little brother to take care of!” the young man practically screeched, gesticulating wildly, and wobbling a little precariously on the spot. He appeared quite ready to reach across the desk and throttle the poor lady who looked _frightened_ by his aggression. He couldn’t blame her. For someone so little, he had quite a mouth.

Despite her discomfort, however, she appeared to be doing all that she could to hold herself together and do her job. As Roy slowed his pace out of curiosity, he silently congratulated her for it. He would have already said something snarky that got him punched in the face. For one, the guy looked far too young to have served in the military.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Elric, but considering you’re so young, and you’re able-bodied, there are other veterans who need this money more--”

“Bull _shit_ I’m able-bodied!” Elric crowed in dismay, shoving the sleeve of his black button-down up to reveal something Roy hadn’t noticed before -- his arm was a prosthetic -- shiny and surprisingly mobile. “Does this look fucking able-bodied to you? And what about my leg? Getting a job is fucking _hard_ when you can’t stay standing for long periods of time!”

Surely that was a crock full of shit. He was too young to have served, right? Apparently not. Coming to a stop behind him, Roy sucked in a sharp breath. From the kid’s face alone, he couldn’t have been more than seventeen.

“There’s nothing I can do about this, sir! _Please_ , I’ve done everything I can for you. You’re very obviously able to throw a tantrum, so I can see why they’ve cut them! Don’t make me call security.” the woman responded to his tirade with vitriol, though Roy could see her shaking.

Now _that_ had Roy’s eyes narrowing. Regardless of age, regardless of _anything_ , you didn’t just—you couldn’t just accuse people of _tantrum_ in the VA. That was absolutely uncalled for. Shouldn’t these people have been trained to deal with what could very possibly be a symptom of—

Too many things.

He stepped forward.

“While I understand your frustration, _ma’am_ ,” he began, putting enough sharpness into the last word that it wasn’t polite in the slightest, “that was absolutely out of line. Telling someone they should have lost their benefits, regardless of the situation, is completely inappropriate.”

The woman’s face turned an interesting shade of purple. “I didn’t—“

“Hey, bastard, I didn’t ask you to come to my rescue here!”

Roy turned to face the second offender, glaring down. “I’m not here to rescue you. I’m here to tell _you_ , as well, that this is not the best place to yell. You’re upset. I understand that. Maybe we can find some way to work something out. But.” He gestured, and the kid glanced around to see what Roy had earlier: several very uncomfortable looking individuals, some still with visibly healing injuries.

The kid swallowed, and Roy knew very well the expression of someone who knew he had been proven wrong and felt too guilty to pretend completely like he didn’t want to admit it.

“Now. As for the issue, can we settle down and calmly handle this like _adults?_ ” He kept any condescension from his tone; he didn’t want to _humiliate_ them, just… knock a little sense into them. Nudge them, really.

But alas, it was not to be.

“Fuckin’ _forget_ it,” the kid snapped, snatching the stack of paperwork off of the counter and storming past Roy in the direction of the exit.

Roy sighed, shaking his head and turning to the counter, where the woman from before was trying to regain her composure.

He set his own stack of paperwork down, grateful that his own business needed significantly less socialization.

—

And thus he completed all of his errands before making his least favorite trip of the day.

He had debated skipping; nearly had, in fact, and listened to the tired, nagging whispering in the back of his mind that told him _you can ditch, just today_ , but he knew better. Knew that one day would turn into two would turn into a complete inability to drag himself there at all. And while the trip to the Veterans Affairs office had taken him far more energy than he had originally thought, he still had enough to make it to group.

He hoped.

And his commitment to Maes helped, too. While so many similar problems had been a very solitary venture for most of his life, someone there with him, although he never would have wished this on his best friend for all the world, made all the difference.

“There you are!” Maes’s cheerful greeting was incredibly out of place at a PTSD group support meeting, but Roy was used to it by now, and he simply afforded him a casual wave before stepping inside.

“You wouldn’t _believe_ it! Elicia said her first word today—and it was _daddy!_ My little girl, she’s growing up so fast…”

And, well, tuned him out. He had gotten the text. And the voicemail. And the picture. And Maes had already called and gushed for a full twenty minutes.

The two of them lingered near the doorway, waiting out of the way to take seats, and Roy was a good enough friend to at least _pretend_ to listen to the speech he had already memorized. He skimmed the arriving crowd: all familiar faces, which unknit his muscles just a bit. That, combined with the comforting (though he would never admit it out loud) backdrop of Maes’s chatter lifted an oppressive veil from him that he had grown so used to, he didn’t realize its existence until it was gone.

“—and Gracia is thrilled too,” Maes finished, glancing over at Roy, one corner of his mouth pulled up in a smirk. Roy snorted and looked away. Of course Maes knew what he was doing and that Roy hadn’t been listening. Had counted on it, apparently.

“I’m sure she is.”

Maes just shrugged. “Anyway, onto something else you actually _have_ to listen to. I met someone—“

“Does Gracia know?” Roy gently chided.

Maes elbowed his side. “Shut up. I met someone who I invited here, and he didn’t seem too keen on coming, so I figured we could give him a little bit of a welcome.”

“You overestimate the amount of cheer I’m able to bring into the locale.”

“Oh, stuff it, Roy. You know what it was like your first time.”

And he did, that. And he had been no stranger to therapy before joining the group. While that came with its own set of negative thoughts, he couldn’t imagine going in, probably freshly shipped back, knowing no one, with no idea what to expect.

Still, he couldn’t just…

“It sounds like you’re asking me to help with a _much_ different kind of therapy, Maes. One that, to my understanding, most insurances don’t cover.”

Maes just elbowed him again, but was spared from answering by a flurry of footsteps as what sounded like a whirlwind stomped in through the door.

“Oh, that must be him.”

Roy’s first thought was that of _course_ Maes would befriend someone noisy and obnoxious. His second was— _Oh. Him._

The blond kid from before paused, and he seemed to be breathing heavily. With a jolt of guilt, Roy remembered overhearing something about a leg injury. Maybe the stomping had something to do with—

Golden eyes lit on Roy, and with his already ferocious scowl deepening, the kid stomped over closer.

No, definitely just part of his personality.

“The fuck are _you_ doing here?” the kid demanded, and while Roy would have usually found the situation too absurd to even get annoyed over, the complete _entitlement_ in his voice left his eye twitching.

“I come here every Saturday evening,” he replied coolly, using the advantage of his height to look down his nose at him. “What about you? It seems like you might be lost; the kid’s gymnastics team is on the other side of the building.”

“You _motherf_ —“

“Hey, hey now, guys!” Both Roy and the kid turned to glare at Maes, who was lifting his hands, placating. “I dunno where you’ve met each other, but Roy, this is Edward, who I mentioned. Ed, this is my best friend, who I told you about. Also, you’re not allowed to kill each other until I get Roy’s banana bread recipe.”

“I’m taking it to my grave, Maes,” Roy muttered, trying not to grit his teeth. “More importantly, you can’t be older than seventeen. What are you doing here?”

“Shows what the fuck you know,” Ed snarls, turning on his heel and storming over to an empty seat.

“You could have been nicer,” Maes admonished, watching Ed shoot them a very deliberate look as he chose a seat between two people, far from any other empty spots.

“And I’m sure he could have been less of a brat,” Roy muttered. “Come on. Let’s find seats.”

—

While he had made it to the group physically, it soon became clear that emotionally, he was somewhere back at the supermarket, or the VA, perhaps. No, scratch that: he was still back in bed.

That’s not to say that Roy didn’t look very much like he was paying attention, of course; while he was tired, he wasn’t _rude._ But he couldn’t bring himself to focus on any string of words that was too long and together. Not when today, everything seemed to be reminding him of his own discharge, his own breakdown. He would definitely not be sharing tonight.

Untreated depression was difficult enough on its own, but add it to untreated PTSD, and it was no wonder he had crashed and burned.

It hadn’t been a great day, for no other reason than his head had decided it wouldn’t be, and right now he didn’t appreciate the reminder that he was more vulnerable than ever.

And then a familiar, slightly raspy, almost hostile voice broke through the haze that had settled over him.

“So yeah. My name’s Ed. Edward, technically, but call me Ed. Forgive me for not standing.”

No one seemed especially perturbed; in a group full of veterans, leg injuries were common. Ed, however, seemed already defensive and uncomfortable, and Roy wondered why he was speaking when he didn’t seem to want to be.

“Some of you are probably wondering what the ff-heck I’m doing here.” He glared over in Roy’s direction, and Roy glanced away, feigning innocence. “I am not, as I was so _graciously_ accused of being, seventeen. Nineteen, yeah. And no, that timeline doesn’t work out if you calculate it. Turns out that it’s not too hard to forge a birth certificate, and the military doesn’t care, not when you’re a genius who develops a new method for bomb disarmament.”

Roy rolled his eyes at the “genius” comment. This kid—

He couldn’t be for real, could he?

“Lucky them. Now they get to absolve themselves of any responsibility, since they guy who enlisted technically doesn’t exist, right?” Ed scoffed, and Roy recognized the look in his eye. He recognized the wild, trapped gleam of a near-feral animal that didn’t _want_ to be feral, that had to fight tooth and claw to retain a semblance of normalcy in a world that just didn’t understand, a world of easy smiles and cheerful noises and gentle touches that seemed so fake and brittle that it would shatter at the slightest of provocations. He saw it every day in the mirror.

Roy found himself believing every word.

“Anyway, so I was a f-freakin’ wet dream for those guys. They had me out there, doin’ good work, they told me. And I was an idiot. I believed them.”

Roy listened to the story unfold further with a knot of dread settling in the pit of his stomach. He knew the feeling, of course, the shame of “I’m so _stupid_ ” when the idealism cracked, when the truth of what you were doing, of what you were _supporting_ , came through. And it hadn’t clicked when he had met him, but upon hearing his story Roy realized that he had heard of Ed, of some genius kid combing the sand for explosives and saving countless lives because of it. In fact, Ed had done work around where Roy and Maes had been stationed.

And that had been years ago. If Ed was nineteen now…

“Me seeing people get blown up didn’t seem to bug them too much, though, as long as I performed. Guess it’s fuckin’—shit, sorry—I mean god—I mean crap. Anyway, guess it’s appropriate that I stepped on a land mine and got blown up myself.”

Roy’s throat tightened with the callousness of the statement, said almost blithely as Ed shrugged.  “Now I’m out an arm, a leg, and a job.  They’re through with me now that I’m no good to them, and here I am, broken as fu—uurniture you took a hacksaw to.”

The group leader thanked Ed for sharing, then continued on to bring up the topic of “brokenness” and how it affected them all. Roy didn’t care to think about it. He was too busy watching Ed.

—

Maes made a beeline for Ed the moment the group released. Roy followed, reluctantly, doing his best not to appear _too_ intent on seeking out Edward’s company. The subtle guilt eating at him over thinking that Ed hadn’t actually served certainly kept him from standing out too much.

Though he had clearly been uncomfortable with sharing, Maes’s presence had a calming effect on most people (when he wasn’t gushing about immediate family), and Ed seemed to be no exception. Roy could see him slowly relax within moments of Maes starting to ramble on about how he was so glad Ed could come and that was excellent for his first time. Ed seemed actually _glad_ at the conversation; it didn’t take long before he was reluctantly smiling, the first time Roy had ever seen the expression on his face. And it suited him, too, and even better because it seemed to be such a rarity. Roy perhaps watched it a little more intently than he should have.

As a quiet observer to the conversation, Roy soon learned that Ed was actually a student at the university where Gracia taught, and she was actually his Genetics professor. It twinged a little, at Roy, the mental image of the young man joining the military to pay his way through college—another reality with which he was too uncomfortably familiar. Maes and Ed chatted some—Ed didn’t even seem annoyed when Elicia came up for quite some time—and Roy tried not to stare blatantly as it became _how_ obvious smiling suited Ed.

“And how is Al doing?”

The smile slid right off of Ed’s face.

“He’s… he’s doing. Which I guess is somethin’.”

Memories of Ed’s distressed cry—“ _I have a disabled little brother to take care of!_ ”—settled in that pit of anxiety that hadn’t left his stomach since Ed had started talking.

“Is Al your brother?”

Ed blinked for a few moments, as if he had forgotten that Roy was there. The look he shot him was suspicious, but Roy did his best to look sincere, rather than the blank-faced neutrality that usually consumed him on these sorts of days.

“Yeah,” Ed said slowly, watching him suspiciously.

“And was he in… the same situation as you?”

Ed’s scowl deepened—it seemed to be a near-permanent feature, except when he smiled. “Not exactly. Even R&D wasn’t gonna put someone _that_ young in the field. Instead, they kept him in a lab.”

“Well, that’s… safer, then, yes?” Roy replied delicately.

Ed snorted. “Like _fuck._ I come back and his lungs are failing.”

Roy’s heart stopped beating.

“Or _something_ like that.” He made a frustrated noise, shifting his weight back and forth between his feet. “Not that he’ll fuckin’ tell me. _It’s classified_ , is all he says, and while that’s fuckin’ _stupid_ , they’ve gotta have said _something_ to scare him into not talkin’ like that. And they pay for his medical treatment—mostly, to keep him from _dying_ —but there’s still a hell of a lot more that falls through the cracks. And that’s why I flipped out earlier.”

“I can understand why.”

“Hold up,” Maes interrupted. “What’s going on?” His eyes, normally sparkling behind his glasses, were grave.

Neither Roy nor Ed spoke for a moment; no way was Roy going to spill Ed’s private business.

And then—

“They cut my benefits, Maes.”

“ _What?!_ ” Roy had only seen a truly angry Maes a few times during his life, and it was a very frightful sight to behold. “What the _hell?_ They can’t—they can’t _do_ that. You got blown up!”

“Don’t you think I know that?” Ed snarled, looking away bitterly. “But you heard what I said. They’ve washed their hands of me. We’re gonna get evicted at the end of this month if I don’t fuckin’ hear back from one of those places I applied, and soon.”

Maes winced. “Nothing, then? I know Gracia’s looking at the university, but…”

“I know,” Ed interrupted, shaking his head, and Roy watched the blond braid flap back and forth. “I’m not askin’ to be handed something. I just need to be able to _earn_ it.”

The next few moments seemed to happen in slow motion. Roy could see Maes straighten, the determined, fatherly glint in his eye that Roy knew far too well by now. He felt the gears in his mind turn, thought about the couch and the futon in the small extra room Maes used for his office, and he knew what Maes was about to do. And the thought of two more people, cramped into that tiny house while Maes and Gracia were trying to raise their daughter—

“You can stay with me,” Roy blurted out.

Both Ed and Maes turned slowly to look at Roy, their expressions equally perplexed.

“I mean,” Roy continued, “you’re a friend of Maes’s and Gracia’s, right? I have a condo, so no rent, and once you get a job, you can start paying back your expenses. I have free rooms.” True, one of them was a library and the other was storage for odds and ends, but he could clean them out.

Ed’s eyes narrowed.

“I don’t need your fuckin’ _pity_ , you condescending—“

“It’s not,” Roy interrupted, glaring back. “I wouldn’t be letting you freeload. I’m sure you know how to cook; you can do that. And things get… messy.” He licked his lips and glanced over at Maes. He had seen how much of a disaster Roy’s place could become when Roy was in a depressive episode, and living alone made them even worse; having someone around to clean in exchange for rent would be well worth any inconvenience, especially if it stopped Maes from putting the two of them up in that house of theirs. “You’d be paying your rent with labor.”

Ed watched Roy warily. “You just met me _today._ ”

“And you clearly know Maes and Gracia. Assuming they’ll vouch for you, I have no problem with either you or your brother staying with me, provided you can be courteous housemates.”

And there was something else, too; something that he didn’t think even Maes had realized.

When they had brought Ed through where Roy and Maes had been stationed, he had cleared out an area quite close to them. As a privilege of his rank, a superior officer had confided to him that if they had not caught the IEDs on that route, the very route that Maes was to patrol the next day, the entire patrol would have been dead.

So he could offer Ed a place to stay, and his brother as well.

“I’ll vouch,” Maes said simply, and Roy nodded.

“It sounds like everything is in order, unless you’d like to discuss it with your brother.”

Ed scowled even deeper, and Roy realized that it was fondness with which he was thinking that one day, his face was going to get stuck like that.

“No. Fine. Deal.”

—

Alphonse Elric was much nicer than his brother.

Roy didn’t realize quite how lucky he was until after the fact—his impromptu invitation hadn’t left him with time to consider that the second brother might be even _more_ of a hellion than the first. But then again, Ed did seem incredibly protective.

…Of course, the first time Roy asked for help moving furniture, Al’s eyes got quite big, his voice quavering, as he asked, “You… you want me to move all these heavy things?”

Roy nearly fell over himself apologizing until he noticed how hard Al was laughing.

“You should have seen your face! Yeah, sure, of course.”

Much nicer, yes, but that didn’t mean much in comparison to Edward Elric.

Roy ignored the smirk on Ed’s face afterwards, instead opting to graciously assist bring some of the heavier items inside.

He learned—quite colorfully—that while Ed’s prosthetic arm was nearly as mobile as a real one, outfitted by the military before they had “booted us out on our asses,” try to make it “do any real work and yeah, I’ll perform, but it’ll hate me for the next two weeks, the ungrateful fucker.”

Roy suggested that Ed might try being more polite and received a glare from one brother and a laugh from the other for his trouble.  The candidness and humor with which Ed treated his prosthetics had him far more out of breath than the heavy lifting.

It surprised him, really, how fun moving in like this could be, especially when it was _supposed_ to be an activity dreaded by all. But it did feel good to get some exercise for once, and he had _missed_ this sort of banter, especially since Maes had his hands so full.

“Okay, and see,” Ed continued as they carried a sixth and seventh box of books into the library/Ed’s new room. Upon seeing Roy’s massive collection, he had insisted that Roy not move them out and keep the room as-is, plus a bed. “Academia is so fuckin’ _exclusive._ You wouldn’t believe some of the research—how close to breakthroughs I’ve gotten already, and I don’t even have my goddamn bachelor’s. I won’t for years at this rate, probably, not since I’m gonna have to drop out if I don’t snag a scholarship.” Roy thought, privately, that if that University didn’t offer him a full ride and a stipend, they would be absolute fools. “But I could do so much with this antibiotic-resistant shit, but then the people who’d really wanna take me up on it are in it for the _money_ , and fuck, why does the goddamn world make it so hard to _help_ people? They make it fuckin’ easy enough to kill them!”

He was so intelligent, and it wasn’t fair, Roy thought, as watched and listened with fascination.

He took the box of Ed’s books gently, setting them on top of the stack. “It’s a good question. Perhaps with a capital of some kind, you could change it.”

“Yeah, but that actually requires money,” Ed scoffed. “Like that’ll ever fuckin’ happen.” Ed glanced at Roy out of the corner of his eye. “I will get a job, though, just watch. And then I’ll pay you back for everything.”

Roy refrained from responding, and instead moved onto another topic.

“This is actually your wardrobe.” He couldn’t resist, not upon seeing the small collection of clothes. He had already learned to recognize the tension in Ed’s shoulders when he was about to get angry about something, however, and upon seeing it quickly clarified. “Leather pants? Dramatic capes?”

Ed scowled again, but this time it was less genuinely angry. “It’s a fuckin’ coat, you asshole. Don’t judge me, with your… your stupid hair.”

“My stupid hair.” Roy knew exactly how to smirk while looking like he was trying not to, and he exhibited this talent now.

“Yeah, your stupid hair—y’know what, Mustang? Your whole face is stupid, too. I’m gonna go do some actual work now.”

“You do that,” Roy laughed, following after him as he headed out for another box of books. “I’ll be here, fixing my stupid hair.” He paused. “How do you fit the leather pants on over your leg, anyway?”

Having a prosthetic leg thrown at his head might have been a new experience for Roy, but it was certainly not one he cared to repeat any time soon.

—

Roy cooked dinner for the first time in a month and a half.

He felt wonderful enough that he broke out his hazelnut encrusted chicken with a prosciutto, mushroom, and spinach cream sauce. It was a quite simple dish for how fancy it seemed, and even Ed was thoroughly impressed. Roy was only glad that he had halved and cooked three chicken breasts; he had never seen someone eat the amount that Ed, and to a lesser extent Al, could apparently eat in one setting.

They all settled on the couch—Roy’s, Ed’s had gone on Craigslist the moment they had all finished moving everything in—and Ed and Al enjoyed the luxuries of Netflix for the first time.

One terribly hilarious movie later, Roy couldn’t help feeling like the three of them had known each other for years.

“Jesus!” Ed laughed, flopping back onto the arm of the sofa. “I don’t think I’ve _ever_ seen a movie that bad.”

“And yet you seem to have enjoyed it, brother.”

Ed scoffed. “As if. I’m laughing at how bad it was.”

The two of them swatted at each other over Roy for a moment until they both slumped back again, losing interest in bickering and even talking, apparently. Roy leaned back as well, letting his eyes fall partway closed as he enjoyed the momentary peace.

The air conditioner kicked on, and he barely noticed—but to his right, he felt Ed jerk violently, and when he whipped his head to the side, he could see Ed’s hands scrambling, eyes wide, for something near his waist.

Al peered over as well, and though Roy didn’t take his eyes from Ed, he could feel the concern at his back. Ed didn’t seem to notice, his eyes fixed on something far off in the distance, hands still searching for something that—that wasn’t there.

He suddenly stilled, and that thousand yard stare started to come back to reality. A deep breath, then two, and he turned his head jerkily back to Roy.

“It’s all right,” Roy murmured. “You don’t need it. You’re safe here.”

Ed nodded and lowered his hands. Roy recognized the realization that was happening in Ed’s eyes right now: he was at home. There was no threat. He didn’t have a gun.

The tension stretched on as Ed watched Roy warily for a reaction. Roy was quiet as well, considering, then…

“Would you like dessert?” he asked gently.

Roy could see the anxiety deflate out of Ed’s body as he nodded.

—

Four days later, Roy awoke to screaming.

He nearly screamed himself—his own dreams were bad enough, and he was honestly grateful for the interruption. Still, he flung off his sheet and leaped out of bed, dashing into the hallway to pinpoint the direction. It wasn’t from Al’s room, which didn’t surprise him; they had mentioned that Al took medicines that completely put him out for the night. That just left Ed’s room.

He burst in through the door, not bothering to knock, and in the dim light he could see Ed struggling to sit upright. Roy stepped over to him, and while he knew better than to reach out and touch him, he hissed, “Ed. _Edward._ Do you know where you are?”

Ed finally managed to get free of his sheets, and Roy could wide, golden eyes gleaming as he stared frantically ahead. “I—fuck— _Roy?_ ”

Roy nodded, stepping forward some more, and reached out his hand. “Yes. It’s me. Are you all right?”

There was a breath, and then Ed reached out as well, fumbling and taking Roy’s fingers with his own. He tugged, pulling Roy over and reaching out with his other hand. Roy offered his as well, and slowly sat on the bed next to him.

Ed immediately threw himself forward, and Roy wrapped him in his arms, holding tightly, doing his best to still the shaking.

“Dreams?” he murmured, running his hand up and down Ed’s back, and Ed nodded.

“So—s-so fuckin’ stupid,” Ed gritted out. “But I—I just…”

“Shhh,” Roy murmured, squeezing gently. “Give it some time, and then you’ll talk.”

Ed breathed for several minutes, and Roy could feel the tension in him start to unknit. Right when he was wondering if Ed had fallen back asleep, however, Ed shifted.

“I hate these,” he whispered hoarsely. “I feel like I should—should be fuckin _over_ it, but—“

“It’s not that easy, and there’s no shame in it,” Roy said, as if he hadn’t been told the same thing over and over and felt likely the same way that Ed was feeling right now.

Ed just laughed bitterly, and though he shifted again, he didn’t pull away. “Yeah. Maybe.” He laughed better. “Fuckin’ deserve it, though.”

“Ed—no, listen to me. No. You didn’t—you in _no way_ deserve this. You saved lives—“

“And took them,” Ed snapped. “You know, I wasn’t just out there finding bombs. I was plantin’ them, too.”

Roy stilled, trying to process this. “You… what?”

“My work wasn’t just good for stopping them. It made it easier for them to kill a lot of people. People who _I_ was directly responsible for. I don’t even know if they were combatants, you know that?”

Roy shook his head, but Ed continued. “And I escaped when other people were killed, too, y’know. So I guess it serves me right, now that they’ve tossed me aside like fuckin’ _garbage._ ”

Roy felt a fiery _fury_ rise within his chest, complete and utter rage at the notion that the military and government he had once respected, had once had such high hopes for, had _treated_ Ed like garbage and then left him feeling like he was. What kind of monsters did they have to be?

“Stop.” Roy could see Ed blink up at him in surprise with the force in his voice. “You _cannot_ tell yourself that. Yes, you’ve done things you regret. Horrible things. But—but the only way I’m able to keep going when I know that is to tell myself that if I die because of it, I’ll never be able to make things _better._ ”

“Woah, hang on, I don’t mean that I wanna…” Ed trails off, and Roy can see the realization click on his face. “Shit, Roy.”

Roy nods solemnly, letting Ed know that he knows that Ed understands. “But it’s different for all of us. You feel like you deserve to suffer, but what about those medicines you were telling me about, combating antibiotic resistance. _Without_ focusing on profit. Who else would do that?”

Ed laughed raggedly. “Flatterer.”

“Is it flattery if it’s true?”

Ed snorted, and he shifted a little until his cheek was resting on Roy’s chest. Roy couldn’t deny his surprise, but if Ed would allow it, he had absolutely no objections.

When Ed remained quiet, Roy continued speaking.

“When I was younger, I was… far too idealistic. I truly believed that… that I was making the right decision. Working for the right people. But you have to understand, Ed, that it’s their _job_ to make you think you’re making the right decision. I’m not going to sit here and tell you, ‘you did nothing wrong; you’re completely blameless’ because I know that you wouldn’t believe me anyway, whether or not it was true. So I’ll tell you this: all you can do is move forward. How you handle that is up to you. I know myself… I’ve vowed to change things from inside. I told you I was getting my law degree? That’s so I can get into politics. I can’t undo what they did to you, Ed, but I can stop it from happening to anyone else.”

Ed was quiet for so long that, once again, Roy wondered if he had fallen asleep, but then—

“You’re pretty intense, aren’t you, Mustang.”

Roy snorted. “I wouldn’t say so, no, but if you’d like to think so…”

Ed just shrugged, resettling into a more comfortable position. Roy allowed his hand to drift up and pet Ed’s hair gently. It was nice, having him like this, having all that energy and anger and passion settle down, and knowing that he had been the one to facilitate that.

“You saved Maes’s life, you know.”

He could feel Ed’s muscles tense. “What did you say?”

“You did work, around where we were stationed. I remember hearing about it. You cleared an area that his group was going to patrol the next morning. You’re the reason that Gracia still has a husband. That Elicia still has a father.

Ed took a few moments to ponder this, but finally breathed, “…Shit.”

“So try to remember that, if it helps. That you’ve done good, and that you will again. It’s what keeps me going.”

“I’ll try.” They were silent for a few more minutes, and Roy wrapped his arms more tightly around Ed.

“Hey, Roy?”

“Mmm?”

“I’m hungry.”

Roy would have regretted losing the opportunity to hold Ed if his sudden laughter hadn’t already done that for him.

—

While Ed was eating, Roy slipped away to make some calls. He wasn’t worried about the time; Riza was still up, by his calculations, and his estimations on the time difference was correct.

His next step was sending paperwork off, which he did the next day, shipping it priority overnight letter.

And then their life settled into normalcy.

Ed still woke screaming some nights, and Roy sometimes did the same, but having the other there afterwards helped more than Roy could have ever foreseen.

Knox came to visit after a few weeks, and while Ed seemed _incredibly_ suspicious, at Roy’s reassurances, he allowed his injuries to be examined and answered questions about his emotional state—albeit sardonically.

The finalized letter came in the day that Ed burst in, waving his own letter, beaming and declaring that he had been offered a full ride to his university for the next four years.

Roy, after congratulating him with the appropriate celebrations, held out his own envelope.

“Read this, Ed.”

Ed smirked and snatched it away, tugging out the papers and then flicking through it. As he read, his smirk faded, replaced by wide-eyed astonishment.

“They… they’ve given back my benefits?” Ed whispered, astonished. “And—and a _full_ pension plan? A discharge with honors?”

Roy, who had been nearly ready to burst from keeping the secret, finally beamed. “One of my best friends is a lawyer. I explained your situation to her and she couldn’t stand for it. You’ll be receiving settlement funds, as well, and your brother’s treatments will now be completely covered.”

“Oh my—oh my _god_ , Roy.” Ed’s flesh hand flew up to cover his mouth, and Roy pretended not to see the hints of tears that he was so desperately trying to blink away. “How— _why?_ ”

Roy reached up to take Ed’s hand, pulling it away and squeezing it. “Because you deserve it,” he whispered fiercely.

One moment they were staring at each other, intensity crackling between them, and the next, Ed had flung himself forward, hooking his arms around Roy’s neck, and kissed him.

Though Roy hadn’t been at all expecting it, now that it had happened, it seemed like the most natural progression. He slid his arms around Ed’s waist, tugging him closer, ignoring the tickling of papers on the back of his neck as he kissed back, neither of them wanting to pull away.

He had just tilted his head, sliding his tongue inside as he deepened the kiss to Ed’s quite vocal approval, when they heard a throat clearing on the other side of the room.

They jumped apart, and for his part, Roy glanced around wildly for the intruder until he spotted Al, smirking a little as he watched, arms crossed.

“I’ve been wondering when you two would get over yourselves.” He smirked. “It was getting painful, watching you two be so hopeless.”

Ed glared, and Roy felt himself flushing, just the tiniest bit. “No one fuckin’ _asked_ you, brother.”

“Fine, fine! But if you had, you would have gotten this done a lot faster, and Roy would have his library back.”

“Don’t you have homework?” This time it was Roy’s turn to attempt to derail the conversation, and though it was clumsy at best, Al took the hint and shrugged, turning and heading back out the door.

Still, Roy couldn’t bring himself to be _truly_ annoyed, not with the way that his heart felt light, lighter than it had in _years._

And not with the way his heart did somersaults when Ed’s hand slipped into his.


End file.
